


Heartbeat

by numot94 (futureplans)



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureplans/pseuds/numot94
Summary: The day feels sluggish, slow. Thoughts come at Seungwan as if from a distance, too vague to linger, too shapeless to elicit anything beyond acknowledgement.She feels like she should be feeling more. The recent breakup, the stressful job, the traffic jam. Something should pull her out of the fog. But it doesn't, and the hours slip by like clockwork, unnoticed.She feels like she's missing something.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 17
Kudos: 62





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was previously published on my twitter account, as a twitfic. If you want to read it in that format, it is available here (https://twitter.com/numot94/status/1215984277206327296). The chapters are very short, so I will try to update quickly.

The day feels sluggish, slow. Thoughts come at Seungwan as if from a distance, too vague to linger, too shapeless to elicit anything beyond acknowledgement.

She feels like she should be feeling more. The recent breakup, the stressful job, the traffic jam. Something should pull her out of the fog. But it doesn't, and the hours slip by like clockwork, unnoticed.

She feels like she's missing something. It's an annoying sensation, that this strange discomfort is the only thing piercing the haze, but it sticks stubbornly in her mind.

All through the day she double-checks her email, her calendar, her shopping list. Nothing is amiss, but the sensation persists.

Work is uneventful. She sits at her desk, mechanically going through the motions that have become second nature to her over the years.

On auto-pilot, she only snaps out of her reverie to once more check her assigned tasks. Did she miss something? She didn't, everything is on track. So why does it feel like she must have?

It's the same at the supermarket. Groceries fill her cart, colors and shapes blurring together. The list swims before her eyes, shifting in and out of focus, and the certainty that she is missing something only grows distractingly stronger as she checks off each item.

She feels like she's letting something slip past her, like she'll get home and it'll slap her her right in the face, large and obvious and so clear. But she waits in line, pays her check, drives off, and still nothing.

She pushes the key in the door, drags her feet through the threshold, slips out of shoes and coats and bags, and still only the tense expectation.

The TV plays a rerun of something Seungwan must have watched years ago. Every scene springs in her mind a moment before it plays on the screen, like a long-forgotten memory slowly stretching its limbs and returning to the foreground of her thoughts.

Garbled dialogues and grey landscapes follow one another in a strange, inarticulate sequence, and the unease buried inside Seungwan’s chest grows, digs deeper, turns to urgency as she leans closer and strains her eyes, focuses, really focuses.

It hits her so hard that her vision goes blank for a second. But she’s sure of it, and the certainty makes her pulse race with something unnameable, a wordless panic, an urge to do something, to fix what is wrong.

As her heart settles, she carefully returns her eyes to the figure. It’s blurry and distant and too faded for shape, but she knows who it is. It was this figure, in a car next to her, sitting at a corner table during lunch, in line at the store.

All along, it was this. It’s so clear now. The shape on the screen holds the answers, the thing she’s been missing, the mistake she almost made. But she can avoid it, if only she can find this figure. If she can discern its true identity, amid the pixels that make up its image.

She slides out of the sofa and crawls forward, closer to the TV. She clings to the screen, fingers brushing against static and sending tingles down her spine. Up close, the landscape seems to waver, unstable against her scrutiny.

She pushes deeper, forces the image into stillness, into clarity. The force of her glare, the tightness of her grasp, breaks through the fragile bubble and crumples the world in on itself.

Pools of noise swallow reality, burst through the faded frame, and the more she clings, the more it takes over. The grey flickers spread to her fingers, cover the palms of her hands, grow over her and into her, and the whole world becomes static.


	2. Part Two

The static hurts Seungwan's ears. She grumbles in wordless protest, but she doesn't open her eyes, because if she does, she'll have to face the world around her.

Something bumps against her side and she can only assume it's Seulgi's shoulder, teasingly prodding her.

Finally, the noise dims as the radio settles into an occupied frequency, and the first notes of what could generously be considered music fill the old car. Reluctantly, she lets her eyes fall open.

"Why am I being kidnapped, again?" She follows the pattern of street lights out the window.

"Because. I'm tired of seeing you stuck at home every night with your nose in your books."

"Sue me for studying."

"You can study every other day. Tonight, you're going out."

She sighs, digs her chin into the palm of her hand. "You make me sound like some reclusive introvert. I do have a life, you know?"

"Not the right kind of life."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're great at making friends. Not so great at meeting people. Romantically." Seulgi turns to face her but she keeps her eyes on the sidewalk, scanning it absently.

"I can meet people later."

"Seungwan." This time she does meet Seulgi's gaze, if only because she's worried they're going to crash if her friend doesn't get her eyes back on the road soon. "Do you ever have one of those days where you just know?

Where you wake up a moment before your alarm and you lie there and you can feel it all the way up and down your spine, that something big is going to happen?"

She shrugs. Seulgi ignores her.

"Today is one of those days, I just know it. You're going to meet the woman of your dreams tonight, and I'd be a pretty crappy best friend if I didn't do whatever I could to make it happen."

"Do you actually believe that?" she asks around a mouthful of laughter, because the words hit a vein in herself that she never knew she had, and she is hit by a wave of vertigo as powerful as it is brief, and she doesn't know what else to do but laugh it off.

The car stops and Seungwan is spared the effort of any further protest, or of having to decide whether she wants to protest at all. The radio turns off and they are left in silence, broken only by the muffled music spilling from the building across the street.

The lights inside the club fill it unevenly, glaring harshly in some places and casting others in near darkness. The effect is strangely disorienting, disturbing Seungwan’s balance before she’s even tasted alcohol.

She clings to Seulgi’s arm on their way to meet their friends, eyes scanning the crowd in spite of herself, but she sees only a uniform mass of bodies, anonymous faces drawn in shades of red, green, purple, as the lights shift and shimmer over them.

The night progresses and Seulgi’s words continue to resonate within Seungwan, growing more prophetic by the hour. Something inside her surges, like waves breaking against her chest, heavy with purpose, and her eyes are drawn irresistibly to the dance floor.

What seemed so silly in the car now has almost reached the weight of inevitability. The tension rises, tightens around her limbs, whispers in her ear. Tonight is the night.

And then it happens. The drink in her hand slips in her slackening grip and drops to the floor. The tension snaps, the prophetic turns ominous, and the glass shatters with a mute impact.

Something is wrong.

Her eyes stubbornly refuse to focus on the source of the disturbance, sliding smoothly from end to end of the bar whenever she directs them that way. But she can see it at the very corner of her vision when she looks away, ambushes the presence into view.

A shadow, a shape, someone who shouldn't be there yet undeniably is. It exists violently, defiantly, and threatens to swallow her whole with its very being.

And she knows this isn't how it goes, some part of herself is now surer than ever that somewhere in that dance floor is the one for her.

But it's like she's suddenly been transported to someone else's life, like her actions now matter only to the happiness of some fictional character in some game, designed to entertain while reality waits.

And reality, the figure in the corner of her eyes tells her wordlessly, will wait no more.

She stands before she knows what she's doing. Unable to focus on her target, she walks blindly forward, into the surging crowd that the harsh lights frame in technicolor.

The sensation from earlier that evening intensifies and she lurches forward as if drunk, the ground swaying unsteadily underneath her. The crowd around her moves at a pace she can't match, to a rhythm she can't divine.

On every side, bodies twist and turn to fit in the empty spaces that others have left, and she knocks against them all, precarious balance slipping, clinging to foreign limbs for purchase.

Like a wave breaking against the shore, and she stuck in its crest, the world revolves in cruel motions, the ground recedes from where she'd expected it, and she is at the mercy of the waters.

But she must go on.

She needs to break through, to escape the crowd, to reach the bar. She needs to find her.

She thrusts her hand forward in search of emptiness, just as something massive slams into her back and knocks her off her feet.

Careening forward, she reaches out every which way, desperate fingers struggle for something solid, but the world has cleared. Against her shut eyelids, the club lights still shine muted colors as she falls, falls, and nothing to stop it.


	3. Part Three

For a second, Seungwan is flying forward, pushed by inertia. Then her hand, wrapped around the nearest pole, yanks her body into stillness with an unpleasant jolt all the way down her arm.

The bus driver seriously needs to cool it on the brakes.

With a sigh, she waits until the doors are open to quickly pat down her disheveled shirt and step outside. In her free hand is a bouquet of flowers, thankfully unharmed by the reckless driving she's just had to endure.

Looking at it, a smile springs to her lips. She can't stay mad, not today, not when there's so much to be happy about.

A quick check of her watch tells her she's still got some time to compose herself before the big moment, so she makes her way to the university without hurry.

As she walks, she goes over the plan, mouthing the words quietly. She really hopes she doesn't stutter, that would be so embarrassing in front of all those people.

This entire plan is a little nerve-wracking, to be honest.

But if she knows one thing, it's that this girl deserves a big gesture, no matter how terribly it could potentially go for Seungwan.

They've been texting for weeks now, meeting for a coffee or a quick bite between classes, and Seungwan knows without a doubt that she wants more.

She wants to take her out on a date, a proper one at a fancy restaurant. She wants to hold her hand and gaze into her eyes, knowing that she feels the same way.

She wants to be her girlfriend. And she'll do whatever it takes to get that chance.

Including, apparently, confessing her feelings with a bouquet of flowers and a romantic song right there on the university steps, as the only woman in the world for her walks out of her last class.

She cringes a little bit at the thought of all that attention on her, but just imagining that warm, happy smile from the one person that matters clears all her doubts. Her grip on the bouquet tightens in anticipation, the wrapping paper creaking in protest.

"I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you," she practices almost inaudibly. "But you can't really do that, can you? Walk up to a stranger and say you're in love. So I just asked for your number instead."

"But you know what? Even if you don't believe in love at first sight... Call it intuition then. I knew I'd fall for you and I was right. I've fallen so hard that you're all I see."

The university is right across the street now. Seungwan swallows drily and studies the looming steps. They seem taller than usual. She clears her throat and continues her speech as she crosses the street.

"You already said yes when I asked for your number, and you said yes when I asked you out. So I'm hoping you'll say yes just one more time, when I ask you to be my girlfriend. Sejeong..."

Her mind goes blank and she immediately breaks into a cold sweat.

This can't happen when she's up there, she has to get it right. She clears her throat and tries again.

"...when I ask you to be my girlfriend. Sejeong, I..."

She trails off into silence and for a moment, everything is forgotten. Not just the speech, but the whole event, the flowers in her hand, even the very reason she's standing there. And then it all comes back, but she's distant, detached.

She tries to focus again, gather her scattered thoughts, but her mind wanders, distracted by something she can't pinpoint at first. There's just something... off.

The nearly empty stairway grows populated as the first students begin to leave for lunch. Seungwan gazes at the crowd of strangers, each face passing by her eyes without leaving a trace.

Not them, something whispers in her ear. Not the steps. Pay attention. Look closely now, or you'll miss it.

Obeying at once, she cranes her head from side to side, first with slight, inconspicuous motions, and then wildly, willing her eyes to scan every inch of the world around her, to uncover what is hidden.

Students pour from the steps, flood the sidewalk, until her vision is obscured by bodies, backpacks, notebooks held to chests.

But she sees it.

In the middle of the crowd, she catches a glimpse of motion, just a flash before it disappears round the corner, and she knows she's found it.

The world goes quiet.

The bustle around her seems to slow, to fade, to turn to a mist that her solid presence could run through with no resistance, dissolving the shimmering image and leaving behind only disordered shapes in smoke.

She steps forward, her path clear, her motions decisive.

Her hand releases its hold on the flowers and the last link to the real is severed. Behind her, the bouquet falls to the floor, stray petals fluttering in its wake. She never looks back.

The side street is empty. A door stands ajar, a discreet entrance to the university. On it is a sign reserving it for school staff. Seungwan pays it no mind and steps inside, eager to catch up to the mysterious figure.

She finds herself in a long corridor, doors lining the walls, fluorescent lights in regular patterns along the ceiling. It stretches on and on, as though crossing the entire campus.

In the distance is a figure. A woman.

She stands still, her back to Seungwan, seeming to examine something on the wall.

The sight sends a jolt of familiarity through Seungwan, so strong that she nearly sobs it out.

She reaches out, like her arms could breach the vast space between them and hold the figure in their grip, pull it close into her scrutiny, divine its secret.

The figure stands unperturbed, unreachable.

Seungwan steps forward, hurries to catch up, before the woman runs off somewhere else. The lights ahead flicker with a shuttering, stuttering noise, an eerie background to Seungwan's echoing steps.

After what feels like hours, the figure grows closer, more distinct.

Seungwan can see the dark shade of her hair, the shape of its cut. Somehow, she looks exactly as Seungwan had expected, as though fitting a mental image that she was no longer supposed to have, that had seemingly vanished, until recognition triggered its return.

Something loud sounds from behind her, like an object being dropped or a heavy switch being thrown, and she turns around to find the end of the corridor tapering off into darkness, the door completely obscured.

The sound repeats as another section of the hallway abruptly goes dark, the fluorescent lights going dull in an instant.

Frozen in place, Seungwan watches the darkness advance in slow but steady steps, each accompanied by the same ominous sound.

Her body makes the quick calculations that her mind can’t quite manage in the moment, weighing the speed of the advancing oblivion against the distance that separates her from the figure, and breaks into a desperate run.

Behind her, she hears the herald of the oncoming shadow, growing faster and faster, and she never looks back but she can picture it, the darkness biting at her heels, threatening to overtake her.

In the middle of it all, the woman hasn’t moved at all. She only stands there, closer and closer with each of Seungwan’s strides, close enough that she could reach her if only she could… If only…

The light above Seungwan’s head goes out and she stumbles, catches her balance, tries to catch up to the relentless pace.

As soon as she reaches the next patch of light, it fades as well.

The third is gone before she steps into it.

The fourth, fifth, and so on, and she loses count as all the light in the world recedes farther and farther into the distance.

The woman is in the darkness as well now, and Seungwan runs forward blindly, arms reaching out.

She can’t see a thing and she runs, runs, all the while worrying, over and over.

What if I miss her?


	4. Part Four

Seungwan fumbles in the unexpected darkness for a moment, finding it curiously difficult to map the space she was sure she'd have memorized by now.

Her hand hovers around the region where she expected there to be a table as her eyes squint, trying to make out shapes from the weak light that filters from outside. Did someone draw the curtains?

Then she is nearly blinded as someone behind her flips a switch and her living room lights turn on, revealing a familiar apartment - the table she was reaching for a few tantalizing inches to the left - filled with familiar, though entirely unexpected visitors.

"Surprise!" a chorus of slightly dissonant voices calls out, and she smiles with delight not even remembering to move at first.

As the crowd dissolves and spreads to fill the room, she finally remembers herself and steps forward to accept the first set of congratulatory words and hugs.

In a few moments, she's made her slow way towards the likeliest culprit for the party.

She approaches Seulgi, not leaning in for a hug but instead smacking her lightly on the arm.

"I'm guessing you're to blame for all this?" She waves her arms as she says it, encompassing the decorations all around the room.

"Not just me, actually."

A pair of arms snakes around Seungwan's waist and she instantly recognizes the warmth pressing against her back.

"Taeyeon," she says simply, and her lips seem to wrap around that word like none other, to shape it in the very form of her love and send it off into the world.

She feels the arms grip her a little tighter, returning the sentiment.

"As the flatmate, Seulgi naturally had the bigger role," Taeyeon admits good-naturedly, "but I did have a say in the decoration. And I baked the cake!" she adds as an excited afterthought.

Seungwan smiles at her words and pretends not to notice how Seulgi coos teasingly at the two of them before wandering off.

"You really didn't have to do all that." She turns around to face her girlfriend, taking care not to break her hold.

"You aren't the only one who gets to make the big gestures. Seungwan..." Taeyeon hesitates, reaches out a hand to fix her hair, a hand that lingers by her face. "I love you. I want to make you happy. I want to see you smile.”

Taeyeon smiles herself then, a little self-conscious, and Seungwan is lost in the sight.

She really couldn't be happier.

Seungwan is standing by the window when she sees it.

Taeyeon is off with mutual friends and she’s been walking around, greeting friends and family.

In her hand is a glass of soda, taken from a generously stocked table of refreshments, and she finally stops at a reasonably empty spot, right by the window.

With her back to the wall, she can feel the cold air from outside push its way through the imperfectly insulated window pane, providing welcome coolness.

She turns around, to receive some of that fresh air on her warm, flushed cheeks, and her gaze settles vaguely on the empty streets.

It’s a dull, overcast day, the sunlight so heavily filtered through layers of dark clouds that the world seems almost grey.

It’s a day where nobody wants to be outside, for fear of getting caught in freezing, hailing rain.

And nobody is. Not a single soul crosses those inhospitable streets.

Not up near the bus stop, not down by the local supermarket, not even off in the distance, towards the tiny park. Not even-

And then she sees it.

She isn’t sure what she does after that.

At some point, the drink is no longer in her hand, though she doesn’t remember putting it down. Instead, she is holding on to a coat that she doesn’t recognize, that surely isn’t her own.

She thinks she must have said something, given some excuse to step out, because nobody is stopping her, nobody is gripping her arm and turning her around and asking, “Why?”

Why is she walking out of her own birthday party and into a day that doesn’t want her in it? A day so cold and harsh that the whole world has come inside to seek cover?

Nobody is asking, so she must have found a way to put into words how she is feeling. The immensity of what pulls her inexorably out of the door and down the creaking stairs and out into the grey.

Outside, there is nothing. Only Seungwan, standing by her apartment with a foreign bundle of fabric pressed against her side, making no move to put it on.

Only Seungwan, and her.

She’s moved since Seungwan caught sight of her through the window, and that’s enough to send panic coursing through her veins. She can’t lose her.

The first drop of rain falls on her cheek, stirring her into motion, and she takes an uncertain step, eyes never leaving the woman she seeks.

Seungwan matches each of the woman's movements with her own, then pushes herself faster, hurries to keep her in sight before anything can steal her away.

She's gaining on her, breaking the distance, barely feeling the rain that falls harder, that sends icicles down her hair and dyes her clothes a darker shade. Her eager steps land on puddles and send droplets flying, drenching her shoes inside and out.

It's raining so hard now that the sound forms a barrier, an even outpouring of white noise. Around her form is a glowing halo, where the icy water hits her warm body and steams off.

The woman, so close now that Seungwan could just run up and touch her, stops.

She turns around.

The same white light surrounds her, framing her like an angel.

The sight is like nothing Seungwan can describe.

It's like she's been holding her breath her entire life and only now, as she finally releases it, does she realize how the pressure had been building, how she had been choking.

It's like a face that had been carved into her mind, and her heart, and every fiber of her being, but never been allowed to pass before her eyes, has suddenly been returned to her, and now she can't bear the thought of losing it again.

Now that she's found her, losing her would be like losing herself.

But still she doesn't know. She looks at the woman and her very being vibrates with yearning, with recognition, but she can't pull the memory from its deep recesses.

This woman is everything, but she doesn't remember how.

The woman stands and watches her, waiting. Her face is calm, expectant. Seungwan has to break the distance, break the spell, say the words that will bring her back.

The rain falls like curtains all around them, like walls of droplets, thick and incessant. Seungwan watches the water land on buildings and streetlights, on benches and trees, and leave weaving traces behind.

Like a watercolor, the world becomes streaked. Its colors bleed and fade, its outlines grow fuzzy. The rain falls and falls and pulls down the scenery until it all turns the same uneven grey, nothing but splotches and blurs.

Seungwan watches the world come washing down and she stumbles forward, but the road is gone. No more gravel street and stone sidewalk but only the same papery grey.

She is stuck, the woman barely out of reach, still bright, still clear, still encased in her halo, the only thing left in the world.

Seungwan raises a hopeless arm, stretches out her fingers, and the spaces between them grow vague, and their edges dull, and she sees the rain wipe them clean, wipe all of her away.

Up ahead, the sky is still dark. She raises her eyes to it, watches the water come pouring down. It falls on her face, on her eyelashes, but she can't brush it away.

She stands, feeling herself disappear, and watches the rain fill the world.


	5. Part Five

Seungwan emerges into the bright sunlight, sending out a spray of water as she whips her hair backwards.

"Watch it," a voice calls out without any real annoyance, and she splashes a foot in its direction as if by accident.

"Oh, sorry, did I get you?"

She giggles as fingers brush against her leg, trying and failing to get a hold on the offending limb.

Even though it's a risky position to place herself in, she wades away just a bit before she leans backward, letting her body be carried along by the gentle undulation.

She watches the cloudless sky squinting against the sun. It doesn't take long for a familiar face to appear in her field of vision.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Son."

"On the contrary, Park. I'm deadly serious."

Their eyes lock for a moment and then she's underwater, hands pushing down on her stomach just long enough to ruin her balance.

She blinks the salt out of her eyes as she emerges, coughing a little just for show.

"Aww, did my little Seungwannie swallow some water?" Chaeyoung coos playfully.

"You better hope my mother didn't see that," she retorts with a sly grin. "She'll think you're a very violent girlfriend."

"Oh please, your mother knows it's very healthy to rinse your airways with saltwater."

"Is it? Care to share in the healing, then?"

She lunges forward, but Chaeyoung is too fast, spinning out of her grasp.

"You'll have to catch me first!"

"But it's so healthy!"

The two women continue to play in the water, giggles and splashes mingling together under a warm foreign sun.

It takes them quite a long time to grow tired, enamored with the perfect weather, perfect sea, perfect view, and fully determined to make the most of every second of these precious vacations.

It’s a rare opportunity to spend them in such an exotic place, a generous graduation gift from Seungwan’s parents that she would never think to refuse.

When they finally drag themselves back to their beach towels, Seungwan’s legs tremble with every step and her body aches to lie down and rest under the warm touch of the sun.

It’s hard to resist sleep once she’s on her stomach, feeling her skin tingle pleasantly and listening to the muffled voices of her parents and her girlfriend, talking about something that makes their tone light and amused. Probably herself.

Her parents and Chaeyoung get along so well, they have right from the start.

She was so nervous and worried to meet them, but no parent could resist such a polite and respectful young woman, or so Seungwan’s mother had assured later.

Especially one that pretty, she’d added playfully.

Lying there, half-asleep under a sun from halfway across the world, Seungwan thinks of how nice it is that they all get along well. That her parents would approve, if she…

Well, if she… If she took the next step.

Not yet, not when she’s just getting out of school and into her first job, not when they don’t even live together yet.

But one day, when they’re settled and stable.

She wants to, she realizes. To ask Chaeyoung to be hers, forever.

She wants the whole thing, a big ceremony and dresses and all their family and friends there, a photographer and fancy champagne and rings.

But it all feels so… distant. Unreal.

At first, Seungwan thinks it’s because they’re such vague plans, but then she realizes she doesn’t feel the heat on her skin either, and when she buries her fingers in the sand there is no resistance, no texture, no sensation at all.

It’s like she’s slipped right out of herself without noticing, and now there’s a Seungwan left behind, one that can feel and sense and interact, and the Seungwan that she is, that can only watch.

So she does the only thing she can. She gets up and walks away, towards the pretty white streets that just a moment ago almost blinded her with brightness, and now are only pretty and white.

The strong noon sun sets everything in stark detail, making the world too real for reality.

Seungwan follows the labyrinthine criss-cross of streets and alleys, nothing guiding her steps as she moves ever forward. She passes inns, cafes, a church in a small square.

Like a maze, the town stretches impossibly long, no street like the last but all melding together at the edges. Seungwan goes on and on, and only as she stops does she realize that she came exactly where she meant to go.

A plaza, lined by trees and filled with unfiltered sunbeams from above. The kind of place that would be busy with tourists and locals sitting in front of espressos or appetizers.

A plaza, wide and bright and empty.

A plaza, where she waits for Seungwan.

They stand, only a few steps separating them, and suddenly Seungwan is frozen, scared.

They've done this before, she knows they have. She can't remember, but the certainty is there, like replaying the actions of a past life.

They find each other, but the world tears them apart. Before their fingers can brush, before their gazes can meet, before the words can be spoken, she's gone.

If she comes closer, will it all come crashing down?

Her fingers clench into a tight fist and she wavers, trembles.

Wouldn't it be better to watch from a distance? To take what she knows she can have rather than risk it all?

But she knows she can't.

Like fate, they were meant to be together. She knows it. Distance, any distance, is a burden too heavy to carry. Too heavy to breathe.

She steps forward, cautious, and waits for the world to turn on its axis.

It doesn't.

Her heart hammers in her chest as she moves again. Like all the oxygen has been sucked from the atmosphere, silence settles over her thickly until she can hear the blood flowing in her ears, until she can hear them ringing in protest at the absolute lack of sound.

She knows she is breathing heavily, can feel her chest rise and fall as she walks, but she hears only that ringing.

But she's made it. She stretches out her hand and it touches another, stretched to meet her halfway.

It feels like home.

She grips it, and she might be gripping too tight but she wouldn't know it, wouldn't be able to stop.

It feels like home.

There's tears in her eyes, pooling there to drip free as soon as she blinks. She won't. Won't miss the woman, even for a second.

She opens her mouth and Seungwan leans in closer, and she knows. She's going to say it. Those words that will tell her everything. That one word that escapes her, so close but out of reach. That one word that will tell Seungwan everything.

But there's only the ringing in her ears.

It's so loud now that she can't hear herself shout. She calls out with all her might, tries to break through the spell, release herself, but the ringing grows louder and louder.

She can't hear a thing.

The woman speaks her truth, speaks her salvation, and Seungwan stands there, tears finally breaking free.

She clamps her hands over her ears, willing it to stop. Their fingers slide apart without resistance.

Is the woman still there? Is she gone?

On her knees, eyes tightly shut against the assault, Seungwan doesn't know, has no way of knowing.

There's only the ringing, louder and louder.

And it won't stop.


	6. Part Six

An awful ringing fills Seungwan's ears and she grimaces in displeasure, wishing only that it would stop.

A voice breaks through the din, but she is too disoriented to make sense of the words, still caught up in trying to understand where she is, and who is speaking, and why that ringing just goes on and on.

She groans a confused question and the voice repeats itself.

"I said, are you going to get up or do you just want to listen to your lovely alarm some more?"

A weight shifts on the other side of the bed and then there is an arm draping over her side, clumsily reaching for the noisy phone on the bedside table. A warm body presses against her back, a kiss is left on her cheek.

"Good morning, by the way," Sooyoung says sheepishly, and Seungwan laughs a little at the late greeting.

"Sorry, I was having some weird dream. I thought the ringing was part of it."

"That was your brain trying not to wake up. You should sleep more."

"Hmm. Let's do that now."

She snuggles a little closer to Sooyoung and smiles blissfully. She's so cozy and comfortable, she never wants to get up.

"Nice try, but you need to get to work. Try going to bed earlier next time."

"Why so cruel?" she whines, pulling the covers over her head. She hears Sooyoung's laughter, sees a shadow settle overhead before her girlfriend straddles her, stripping away her flimsy protection.

"Seungwan," she says, suddenly serious, still gripping the sheets in her hands. Seungwan blinks, confused at the change in mood. "How much longer are you going to do this? Run around in circles? You need to remember."

Sooyoung seems stern, almost angry, and Seungwan trembles at her words. Some part of her knows what Sooyoung means, although she can't quite make sense of it.

"What?"

The tense mood is gone and Sooyoung is stepping out of bed with a smile.

"I asked if you want me to make coffee while you shower. I'm pretty sure you're already going to be late." She pauses, seems to notice Seungwan's confusion. "Wow, you're still a little out of it, huh? You really need to get some more sleep, honey."

A quick peck to her lips and she's off, leaving a stunned Seungwan behind.

Eventually, the force of habit pushes her out of bed. She showers, get dressed, and steps out of the bedroom.

She walks into the living room, and the sky outside is dark.

She doesn't remember the day passing but she knows it isn't morning anymore. The table is set for two, dinner is ready, Sooyoung sits across from her and they eat in silence, the plates are empty and in Sooyoung's hands as she carries the dishes to the kitchen.

Seungwan grabs her arm, keeps her in place. Everything feels unstable, hanging on a thread.

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. We're just having dinner, honey."

"But you said... You said I have to remember."

There aren't any dishes anymore. The table is clear, they stand stiffly by its side.

Sooyoung smiles.

"Well, you do. You can't keep running forever. You have to say it."

"Say what?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?”

Sooyoung is calm, stoic, and Seungwan feels her own desperation stupidly, entirely out of place.

"Because you already know. You just have to remember."

It's true, Seungwan realizes then. She does know it. She knows just what she has to say, if only she could remember it. That one word.

The arm in her grip slips free, fingers sliding against hers and holding her hand gently. Soft eyes lock on hers, eyes that aren't Sooyoung's, and familiar lips quirk into a smile.

And it isn't Sooyoung.

And Seungwan remembers. That one word.

"Joohyun."

In a flash, it all comes rushing back. Joohyun’s hands, holding hers. Joohyun’s eyes, gazing into her face. Joohyun’s lips, pulled into a sweet smile.

It’s Joohyun, here in front of her, all of her, and Seungwan remembers.

Seungwan remembers it all.

The woman in the plaza, the angel in the rain, the figure in the corridor, the stranger in the club, the presence all around her but never close enough to grasp.

It was all Joohyun.

As she stands there, overwhelmed by the realization, the memories continue, and it all seems so clear that she wonders how she could ever have forgotten.

How could she forget the love of her life?

Because it was Joohyun she was meant to meet in the club, Joohyun she confessed to on the university stairs, Joohyun that planned a million little surprises and took that vacation with her and impressed her parents.

Joohyun who woke by her side, who clung to her to keep her from leaving in the morning.

“ My precious warmth,” she’d murmur playfully into Seungwan’s neck.

It’s Joohyun, all of it is her, Seungwan’s whole life.

How could she have forgotten?

“ I lost you,” she utters breathlessly. “I… I forgot.”

Joohyun’s smile widens, her eyes soften as she gently brushes her thumb across the back of Seungwan’s hand.

“ But you remembered. I knew you would.”

Thin arms wrap around her, doing what she was too stunned to do, and then Joohyun clings to her, chin nestled on her shoulder.

“ But how?” she urges on, a desperate hint to her voice. What could have done this, torn them apart like they weren’t threads irrevocably entwined?

The arms around her cling tighter, then slowly release their hold, until Joohyun is facing her again.

"I don't know," she says sorrowfully. Her hands reach up to cup Seungwan's face, her fingertips brushing against skin like the most precious silk. "But I know that you won't find answers here."

Seungwan steps back in shock, then realizes the truth in Joohyun's words almost at once.

This world is as unreal as the others. She's witnessed its nonsensical passage of time, the way truth and lie shift into each other like the foam of one wave chasing the next.

"What's doing this?" She knows better than to expect answers from Joohyun, but she can't help it when all she has is questions.

"I can't tell you that. But I do know one thing."

A hand leaves her cheek, trails upward to gently push her hair out of her eyes, pat it into place.

"You'll find me. You'll always find me. Because it's you."

Tears spring to her eyes. She's scared, she has no idea of what she'll find outside this space, this little pocket of reality that they've made for each other.

"I love you," is all she can manage, trying her best not to grip Joohyun too tight, not to hurt her.

"My sweet Seungwan."

It's like the first time she's heard it. Just like then, everything comes crashing down around her, the world spins out of orbit and spins right back, and it's just them. It's just Joohyun.

"I know you're scared. But you have to go. You have to find your answers." Seungwan opens her mouth, but Joohyun silences her. "We can't stay here. We can't hide. You need to find out what's real, Seungwan."

"You have to wake up."

She knows it's the truth, but the thought of losing Joohyun again, even for a second, claws at her heart, pulls at her chest. She tries to speak, but only broken syllables escape her lips.

Finally, the sounds conjure up words and she whispers out an "I don't know how."

"Yes, you do." Joohyun smiles patiently, understandingly.

And Seungwan does know, she can already feel it as she says the words, but she fights it, struggles, clings, and she's scared of the unknown, and she'd stay here with Joohyun forever because it's safe.

But it isn't real.

But she clings tighter anyway.

And she lies, because maybe if she believes it, really believes it, it will become true.

"I don't know


	7. Part Seven

Seungwan wakes up.

She feels like it should take longer for reality to set in. She should scramble out of the empty bed, dash through empty rooms, barge into darkened kitchen, living room, hallway, even make a half-hearted sweep of the bathroom.

It should take longer to realize. Longer than this sliver of a moment, the half-second in which she opens her eyes to gaze up at a blank ceiling.

It should creep in slowly, around the edges of sleep, solidifying with every step. First an unplaceable dread, then a fading worry, fading as confusion grows, and then awareness unacknowledged. Fear that is nothing more than bargaining.

But she doesn't get to wait. She doesn't get to hope, not even for a second. Not even for the few steps that would take her out of the bedroom.

She just knows, right away.

Joohyun is gone.

Seungwan wakes up, and Joohyun is gone.


	8. Epilogue

The world is still dark, morning far off, but Seungwan won't let her eyes fall closed again. She lies there, staring at the ceiling, wishing she could go back to that wavering, uncertain world, where nothing felt quite this real, quite this final.

But she won't risk falling into the fantasy again, not when it comes at the cost of waking up in the end. Of waking up to this.

Slowly, she pulls herself up until she is sitting upright. Her left hand reaches for the bedside table, fumbles to grab her phone.

The light it casts is almost blinding at first, but her squinting eyes slowly adapt, until she can study the screen painlessly.

She sits still, gazes at the motionless screen. 

Her thumb moves across its surface with a purpose of its own and she watches as it opens the list of contacts and scrolls through them, one by one, until it reaches that name.

Joohyun Bae.

Those two simple words.

It used to be just Joohyun. Just Joohyun, with a heart. Seungwan gazes at that cold last name and feels the heart's absence sharply.

Without it, Joohyun is just a name that doesn't belong to her.

She knows what the dream was telling her. Joohyun is right, always right, even the Joohyun that she conjures up to try to pretend, for no more than a second, that she's still there. Even that fake, failing imitation.

She stares so hard, like she needs to commit the image to memory, like having that name branded in her mind will make up for everything else being gone.

Then her thumb moves again, and it's slower and hesitant, because this time it's all her. No muscle memory to guide her through the motions.

It hovers over the button, trembles in place.

Seungwan smiles at the sight, a smile like the first attempt at happiness. The first attempt at having something to smile about.

"I have to stop running. I have to wake up now," she whispers to the words.

Her thumb presses down on the confirmation screen and then they're gone.

Joohyun is gone.

She puts the phone back down on the bedside table and slides under the covers once more. Her eyes gaze straight ahead, at nothing in particular.

"Goodbye, Joohyun."

She closes her eyes. 


End file.
